


Poetic Quote Drabbles

by Mansaeboysbe



Category: NCT (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansaeboysbe/pseuds/Mansaeboysbe
Summary: A compilation of idols + quote (books, poems, fortune cookies, etc) drabbles by Bee and MariChapters organized by idol, search by title





	1. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction"

There was a thick silence surrounding them, cutting them off from the outside world in a bubble forged by their own tension. He played absently with the rim of the mug that had been placed before him just a minute ago. She held her hands in her lap, waiting for a subtle sign or maybe just a large production on his behalf that would prove that he still wanted this. That a month-long break had been enough.

Her heart was still fluttering, though inconsistently, as if her hummingbird spirit was slowly realizing that this was not the same situation it was three months ago. They had been sitting there for a few minutes and the only exchange that seemed to occur was him stealing her breath as he stole glances.

“Loving you was the most exquisite form of self-destruction,” he murmured.

“And you didn’t want to deal with this anymore?”

Ten looked up at her finally, a grim smile spreading across his face like cracks on thin ice, “I didn’t think it right to keep you caged in a relationship with someone who couldn’t even care for himself, let alone you, too.”

His words weren’t meant to be bitter, but they were all the same and their relationship washed away as their meeting drew to a close, leaving the slight taste of almonds in her mouth.


	2. Jisung (NCT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart." - The Little Prince

The night sky was a pitch black backdrop to the city outline as (Y/n) swung her legs against the cold metal of the bridge. The boy beside her was taking his time looking back and forth between her and their home a couple miles away. They were out just far enough that the sounds of cars and the humming of nightlife had been dulled and the only thing present seemed to be the sound of the crickets chirping.

It was too late for the fireflies, but they had fled from their homes the minute all the lights in their houses had been shut off. Their bikes lay abandoned at the edge of the bridge, ornaments to the skeleton structure that was no longer used now that the new highway had been built.

She leaned her head onto Jisung’s shoulder slowly, so as not to upset his balance, and in turn, he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“The city is beautiful from this perspective.” She felt him nod.

“You know,” there was a lapse of quiet and then he continued, “the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

She let that sink in for a moment, felt him twist slightly to look down at her, no doubt gauging her expression.

“Like this moment. I think it’s one of the most beautiful things. But you can’t really see the moment itself, just the components. I’m sitting here, looking at my home with the prettiest girl in the world, hoping that time will just stop because I can’t imagine anything after this will ever be better what we have right here, right now.”

Her chest felt light as if he had released all of the thoughts weighing her down with the simple turn of a key. At the same time, her body felt heavier, as if his words had grounded her and her heart was telling her to stay in the moment a little longer as well.


	3. Minghao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She fell for him hard, but he felt two times harder"

“It was one rule, Hao.”

“I know,” he grimaces, failing to meet the eyes of the older boy standing over his kneeling form, “I- I know there’s nothing I can say now to change your mind.”

Wonwoo sighs, his strict expression falling into something foreboding that makes Minghao’s stomach turn over again. There’s a moment of silence while the world around them is frozen in time, the air static except for the heavy, borderline sobbing heaves that rise and fall from Minghao’s chest, threatening to crack under the weight of inevitability. He presses his forehead into the pavement. It’s only a matter of waiting for them to arrive, the people in charge of deciding his fate.

The atmosphere crackles and he doesn’t even have to look up to know that his end is here.

“Minghao.” Seungcheol’s voice is quiet and steadily calm, like a teacher scolding a misbehaving student, “Please look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head to see the three men standing in front of him. Soonyoung is standing furthest away and at a glance, Minghao knows that his superior is practically shroud in disappointment. Even Jihoon, who’s gaze rarely slips past stoic concentration, seems uncomfortable.

“Xu Minghao,” Seungcheol starts reading from a document, “You have committed an act against the High Angel’s Council and are being charged with subversion-”

“Subversion?” Minghao chokes, his eyes darting over to Wonwoo, “How-?”

“Your punishment is…is…”

“Expulsion.” Jihoon finishes for him.

It’s exactly what Minghao had been expecting, and yet, it still feels like his lungs are about to collapse. He can’t help but sink back down onto the sidewalk, letting the hard concrete dig into his skin. It doesn’t tear now but in only a few moments, there will be blood.

“Cheol, wait,” Minghao shudders when Seungcheol crouches down beside him and places an unsteady hand against his shoulder blades, “Please, just… don’t blame her.”

“Her…?”

“The girl,” Wonwoo mumbles, turning away from the scene.

“Please,” Minghao begs, pressing further into the ground as if it can shield him from the agony that’s about to occur, “please don’t hurt her.”

Seungcheol falters, glancing up at Wonwoo for clarification. Wonwoo winces, shying away more.

“She fell for him hard, but he fell two times harder,“ is the only response Wonwoo can give.

For a moment, Minghao wonders if Seungcheol will go against orders and let him go. He wonders if he’ll have a chance to escape if his wings will still be strong enough to carry him away when they’ve lost most of their strength in his disobedience. He wonders if the other angels will consider him dead, or turn him into a martyr for following his heart.

He wonders if losing his wings will mean he loses his memories too. The thought seems almost absurd, flashes of captured images burned into his mind like film exposed to the light for too long; it has to be impossible when he can picture her smile without even trying. He wonders if she’s still waiting for him in her apartment, what she did with her day, if she went to the store like she had planned or if she had just stayed in bed, snuggled under the blankets and waiting for his return. When he left this morning, it was with a kiss and a promise to be back by evening, but then again, he hadn’t planned on getting caught today.

He wonders if she even knows that he’s here, crouching on the sidewalk a block away from what had become their shared space, about to lose everything he had ever known because he was absolutely, positively sure he was in love with her. The only rule in the entire High Angel’s Council: Don’t interfere with humankind.

He wonders how much pain he can take before he collapses, or worse.

Seungcheol seems to make up his mind. His hand comes down to rest between Minghao’s shoulder blades again, and with one final breath, desolation begins.

The burning in his spine pales in comparison to everything else.


	4. Wonwoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And though she be but little, she is fierce”

“She’s… perfect.” Wonwoo stares down at the bundle you’re holding, looking like he’s caught between wanting to laugh and cry all at the same time.

“She is,” you smile, glancing up at him, “She needs a name though.”

“She doesn’t have a name yet?” he looks up suddenly, startled.

“Nope, I wanted to wait until I got home so we could both name her.”

“Oh, geez,” he lets out a huge sigh between pursed lips, “This is a huge responsibility.”

“Wonwoo, it’s just a name.”

“Yeah, but,” he takes a step back to safely wave his arms around in exasperation, “Names stick. What if we don’t like it later?”

You shrug, “Then we change it. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You know,” he chuckles, taking a step back beside you, “you’d think we’d be better parents by the… what, this is the fifth one?”

“I think so,” you hum, “it usually takes a few to get the hang of things, though. Hopefully, she’ll last longer than others we’ve had in the past.”

Wonwoo lightly scoffs and you know he’s rolling his eyes, “Yeah, maybe if you actually water them properly, they wouldn’t die so fast.”

“Hey!” You turn and if your hands were free, you’d shove them into his chest, “The woman at the farmer’s market said to water once a week.”

“In the summer, maybe, when they’re actively growing. But they only need water once a month when they’re dormant in the winter.”

“Whatever,” you turn away from him and go into the kitchen, carefully setting the pot down on the counter, “Cactuses aren’t supposed to be this confusing.”

He follows behind you, moving to take the towel off from around the stone pot, placed there to prevent soil from getting all over your car. When he comes back from the laundry room, he immediately scoops you up into a hug.

“She’s not going to die,” he settles on, burying his nose into the side of your neck.

“But she’s so small.” It comes out more of a whimper than you were intending, but you do feel a slight pang of fear when you glance over at the small cactus, one tiny red flower beginning to sprout from an equally small bud at the top.

“And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, causing Wonwoo to jerk back, “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“Her name. We can call her Hermia.”

Wonwoo’s expression melts into a smile, something akin to disbelief when he whispers against your skin, “God, I love how much of a nerd you are.”

“Hey, you’re the one who quoted Shakespeare first,” you giggle.

“True,” he grins again, “So, Hermia?”

“Hermia it is.”

“Glad we chose that and not Ophelia.”

“Why would that…” you gasp when the realization sinks in, and this time, you do hit him in the chest.


	5. Mark (NCT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “we accept the love we think we deserve” - the perks of being a wallflower

Mark shut the door quietly behind him, whether it was to not startle her or to remain in the background himself, she didn’t know. She wiped away at the trails on her face as if that would make it any less obvious what she had been doing for the last half hour.

He grabbed the tissue box off her desk on the way over and as he sat down on her bed, he offered it to her. She took one, blowing her nose before tossing the kleenex into the trashcan at her feet, not once looking at him.

They sat for a moment in silence. She didn’t know if he was looking at her but she didn’t want to check. Her fingers trembled as she bit her lip, simultaneously trying to hold back tears she thought she had suppressed for the time being. As soon as they escaped, Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders, using his hand to gently lean her head on his shoulder. She clung to his shirt, hugging him to her as he pet her hair, trying to sooth something he had no control over.

“I don’t get it,” she said between sobs, “Am I not good enough?”

He pulled back at her words, shaking his head frantically, “No, never!” He paused, trying to find the right words, “I think sometimes people…I mean…we accept the love we think we deserve and maybe that guy knows, deep down, that he’s not deserving of you. That you would always be able to give more than him and he didn’t want to let you down.”

She looked up at him, at the way his wide eyes were trying to find a way to end her sadness, at the way his cheeks were red from the way the hard wind had battered him outside, at the way he looked so completely and utterly lost. She wanted to say something, anything, to him that would calm him down, as his own emotions seemed to be just as frazzled as her, but there wasn’t really anything to say. So instead, she rested her head on his shoulder again and closed her eyes, willing the day to be over.

And Mark looked down at her, wondering if there would ever be a day where these conversations could ever be more if his arm around her waist would ever mean more, if she would ever accept his love because he knew that she deserved it. Because she would always be more than enough.


	6. Mark (NCT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "a romantic evening awaits you tonight" - fortune cookie

She cracked the cookie open, pulling the paper out and popping the food into her mouth. She looked up at Mark sitting across from her in the booth, face frozen in an indiscernible expression. Finishing her cookie, she bit her lip and set the paper down.

“…Mark?” He didn’t move at all, “Did you eat the whole thing? Like… paper and all?”

He nodded slowly and she stared at him for a moment before breaking into loud laughter, covering her mouth with her hand and holding her stomach with the other.

He spit the cookie out into a napkin and then whined for her to stop making fun of him in between his own giggles.

“I forgot okay! Leave me alone!”

“Well, I was going to ask what your fortune is but I guess we’ll never know.”

He moved to take another napkin from the dispenser, presumably to crumple and throw at her, but in his haste, he ended up knocking his fork off the table and into the aisle. There was a moment of silence between them as they both stared at the utensil sitting on the floor.

“Whhhhhyyyyy,” he exclaimed, burying his face in his hands.

(Y/n) was already dying of laughter again as Mark wallowed in self-pity at his own clumsiness.

“Can we just go before someone confronts us?” She nodded, trying to stifle her chuckles and ultimately giving herself hiccups.

Mark got up to pay quickly and she grabbed her fortune before joining him. They walked outside together, headed back toward her home.

“A romantic evening awaits you tonight,” she read.

“It was pretty romantic.”

“Yeah, watching you spit out a cookie really made me go heart-eyed.”

He gave her a look as she giggled.

“Okay, I’ll admit that up to that point it was pretty romantic.” She paused and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders pulling her closer, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. “But next time maybe keep the silverware on your plate.”


	7. Jun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know I am but summer to your heart/And not the full four seasons of the year" - Edna St. Vincent Millay

The sun is beginning to sink on the horizon when you find Jun sitting on the docks, looking out over the lake. Rays of late summer orange and yellow spill over the water like oil paint and you stop in your quest to get him to take in the sight. He’s the figure in a still life, captured in a moment of picturesque peace that would make even Paul Cézanne jealous. But nothing gold could stay, and Joshua’s request pokes at the back of your mind until you stop lingering and continue forward, your steps on the wooden dock making Jun aware of your presence.

“Hey,” you come to a stop beside him, “what are you doing out here?”

He sighs, a small smile coming to rest on the edges of his lips, “Wanted to take it in before we left tomorrow.”

“Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Rough wood digs into your palm and then the exposed skin of your legs as you take a seat beside him and settle in. Your gaze wanders out over the water. Streaks of pink had begun to dance among the waves, the last remnants of sunset clinging on before night took over.

“I wonder if I’ll ever stop being sad when camp is over,” you say. Jun turns to look at you and you continue the thought, “It signifies the end of summer, you know? It’s all about getting ready for the school year from here, no more hiking, swimming, campfires-”

“Sneaking out past ‘lights off’ to steal marshmallows from the dining hall?” He adds, reminding you of the night you’d come up with the best plan of the summer: to break into the kitchen’s pantry for a late night sugary snack.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you protesting when I brought you with.”

Jun had been somewhat surprised when you were the one knocking on his door at midnight, usually it was one of his campers complaining about spiders or a loud roommate, but you were a creature of habit and that had come to mean at some point during the three weeks you were at camp, you’d come up with mischief of some kind. He’d been hesitant at first, but when it came to food and the thrill of adventure, he was a weak man. At least this year it was smuggling marshmallows and not convincing both your group and his that the woods around the camp were haunted by “ghosts,” aka Mingyu trying to retrieve stray arrows from around the archery range.

“Probably because I had three marshmallows in my mouth and you kept trying to make me laugh.”

“Ah, true.” You’d never tell anyone, but it was your favorite memory of camp this year. Mostly because almost choking on marshmallows from laughing so hard while also trying not to get caught by Seungcheol would always be memorable. Not because you could still remember the way Jun looked with his cheeks puffed up, eyes crinkling every time you managed to fit another marshmallow into the mess already in your mouth, or the way his hand brushed over yours when you both reached for the bag and you convinced yourself the fluttering in your heart was just an aftereffect of the sugar.

There’s another moment of silence as the sun says its last goodbye before giving into the black-blue of night before Jun speaks up beside you, “… I tell people this is my favorite thing about summer. You know how that’s the ice-breaker teachers usually, go with on the first day? The typical ‘what was your favorite thing you did over the summer’ question?”

“Usually I’d agree with you, though I did go to an HyunA concert earlier this summer, so I mean-”

“Wow,” he places a hand over his chest in mock offense, “HyunA wins over mosquito bites and heat stroke?”

“I mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s gorgeous, we get it.”

You can’t help but laugh, and despite pretending to be exasperated, you knew Jun is smiling too.

“Seriously though,” you continue with sincerity when you both settle down again, “My friends are always eager to hear about my summer because of camp. They always ask how my annoying camp friend is.”

“You talk about me?” Jun asks, and immediately you feel heat rush to your face in response.

“I- uh, yeah, I guess so.”

He hums, shifting to stretch his legs out in front of him, his feet resting at the edge of the dock, “I talk about you too.”

You fall silent, trying to figure out why his words feel more weighted than before. The answer seems obvious but you push it to the back of your mind, along with the nervous pang of your heart in your chest. While you pretend to ponder, Jun speaks up again.

“I get what you said earlier, about being sad when camp is over. I don’t think it’ll ever get less sad.”

“How come?”

“Well, I kind of miss you… the rest of the year.” When you look over, Jun has his hands clasped together in his lap and his head bowed down so you can’t see the expression on his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…” He looks up, but not over at you, shaking his hair out of his face and beginning to mess with the loose strands, “Sorry if that’s weird, you’re just really fun to hang out with and you’re kind of one of my best friends, and-”

“Jun,” you reach over and grasp at his wrist, pausing the nervous flick of his fingers and making him look over at you. For a moment, you sit and stare at each other, until you fell his wrist twist so his fingers were locked around yours.

“I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.”

You shake your head, “Jun, I miss you too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

A huge sigh leaves his lungs as he leans back slightly, closing his eyes and turning his head to the sky. With a soft laugh, you scoot closer to him, bringing your hands up to rest on your knee. Jun sits back up and opens his eyes again, a wide smile spreading over his face.

“So this hasn’t been a one-way, sad, pathetic summer crush?”

“Just this summer?” You quip, and he gently tugs you over to sit closer.

“Three, but who’s counting really?”

Leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes and let everything settle in. Jun begins to softly trace over your skin, bringing his cheek down to settle against your hair.

“It wasn’t one-way,” you think to answer his earlier question, “but I’m glad this is the last year we’re pretending it is.”

It’s only when Seungcheol finds the two of you cuddled together on the dock that you remember the reason you went looking for Jun in the first place: the final bonfire was that night and all of the counselors were supposed to go help set up. You’re expecting the worst, not only did you both avoid counseling duties but relationships among the staff weren’t exactly encouraged either. However, apparently some of the senior staff had a bet going on how long it would take for you and Jun to confess to each other, and Seungcheol wasn’t going to let Jeonghan win with only twelve hours left before check out. So you’re let off the hook, mostly, after promising Seungcheol to save any PDA until the next morning. That being said, Jun still takes your hand during the final campfire song, and this time, the end of summer just feels like the beginning of everything else.


End file.
